"Fair enough," Thornwald said. "You'll find I'm not carrying anything prohibited. I'm coming here to settle."
"We'll decide whether your stuff's okay," the smaller inspector said. The two men hoisted Thornwald's baggage and carried it to the depot. Thornwald followed.
"Let's have the keys," the tall one ordered. Mac handed over the keys and they opened the trunk. The first thing they discovered was Thornwald's prosthetic arm.
"What's this?" The inspector's voice registered shock.
"Haven't you ever seen a prosthetic arm? I lost mine in combat, and this is my spare."
The inspector's eyes narrowed. "How come you're not wearing it, then?"
"It's thought-attuned. It's controlled directly from my neural centers, and the linkage isn't completely smooth yet. It takes time to learn how to use one of those things, and it's a strain learning. I don't wear the arm all the time."
The inspector nodded. He turned back and continued to check through Thornwald's luggage. Finally, the two inspectors held a whispered conference and looked up.
"What are you doing on this planet, Mr. Thornwald?"
"I'm—I've come here to live. I'm a retired Interstellar Policeman."